Meet the Mobs
by Pacmantacco
Summary: Ever wonder what the mobs do when they're not at your throat? There's got to be more to the mobs than we think! Meet the Mobs is a collection of short stories, each one featuring on of Minecraft's many mobs. With time, every mob will be covered, no exceptions.
1. Pig(Man) Meets World

_**Khan the Zombie Pigman in...**_

**Chapter 1: Pig(Man) Meets World**

Sealed off in the subterranean reaches of the Nether, a corpulent frame of decaying meat and scorched flesh wandered tirelessly through the unchanging landscape.

The scars and deformities that riddled Khan's body served as reminders to his past skirmishes with the adventurers that were as consistent and expected in the hellish terrain as the sweltering heat. An ear lost to an arrow, his stomach laid open by a hatchet and his chest slashed open by a sword swipe, yet the beast was unfazed by the injuries.

For the first time in his life, the creature was alone. He was once a lowly grunt for one of the tribes that set the foundations for the very survival of his species, but Khan aspired to lead. In battle after battle, he never failed to prove his worth through gory deeds. His eventual rise through the ranks was not-so-subtly helped along by that fact that he did not hesitate to kill those who commanded him in a bloody display of gore and carnage. Throughout the vicious campaigns against the curious adventurers who visited his realm, Khan distinguished himself in glorious carnage, his star of fame shining ever brighter, while the number of comrades in arms steadily dwindled.

But when the amount of troops who fought alongside him numbered zero, Khan soon realized that it was not the desire to lead that drove him, but the love of bloodshed. Shunned and eventually banished for his unpredictable and volatile behavior, Khan set out into the hellish wastes in search of anything to quench his blood-thirst.

The walking corpse hummed an empty tune as he tossed a sword salvaged off of the remains of an ill-prepared adventurer and caught it with skill he rarely possessed. The feat went unnoticed.

Sighing to himself, Khan plucked the small chunks of rotting flesh that coated his blade and flicked them off into the distance. The five days since his banishment had been rather uneventful. The labyrinth of caves in which he found refuge stretched on for miles and were devoid of life of any kind.

But on his sixth day of exile, he found a body. Though not much remained of the corpse; the flesh had stripped away and all that remained was a charred skeleton. In his primitive mind, Khan made a decision. A body meant a battle had taken place. And battles meant carnage.

Emitting a squeal of sadistic childlike delight, Khan delved deeper into the network of caverns.

He trekked on for several more hours, never needing to stop to eat or rest. Such luxuries were beyond reach for his species anyway. Instead, fueled by newfound determination, Khan marched deeper and deeper into the caverns.

Nearly four hours into his journey, the trail of charred skeletons and discarded loot led him to a massive fissure. Unlike the rest of the labyrinth, the long drop into the craggy earth was devoid of any light. Bodies littered the ground around the opening like autumn leaves; dried blood defined the texture of the fissure's opening, the crimson splattered over every surface like crude graffiti, further depicting the carnage that had taken place.

Khan leaned dangerously close to the ledge, desperate to get a glimpse of what could possibly lie beyond the sheer drop. As Khan did his best to carefully balance himself on the ledge his footing wavered and he tumbled over the edge, sliding and crashing all the way down the fissure's steep walls

Khan felt as if he were moving at half his speed as he felt the ground disappear from beneath his feet. Shards of netherrack and rubble rushed past him, grazing him as he fell past them. He tried desperately to grab for protrusions in the wall but found none and within seconds he hit the ground with a sickening crack. He grunted, stifling a cry as a blinding pain shot from his left leg. For an instant, his vision blurred but it was not long before he begun to get his bearings back.

Realizing he had survived the fall, Khan slowly peeled his eyes open. He awkwardly pulled himself upwards, his breath harsh and heavy. Suddenly his attention was captured by a soft purple glow. His eyes snapped open and his mouth went agape.

A mere few feet in away, contained within a sturdy obsidian frame, tendrils spun and flashed in front of him in an elegant display of magenta and purple. The portal seemed to beckon to him, tempting him to step through.

Completely captivated, Khan, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, stepped up to the spirals. The pain that had consumed him earlier seemed to fade away, instead replaced by an intense curiosity. As he neared the portal, the spirals began to overwhelm his vision until he was blinded by flashing purple. An unpleasant coolness began crawling up through his arms and legs before chilling his bones.

Khan let out an animalistic roar as he lashed out at a nonexistent enemy to no avail. The coolness soon gave away to a dull numbness which gave away to an intense pain. He thrashed wildly as the burning sensation engulfed him. Gritting his teeth together, Khan braced himself for a painful death. Then suddenly… it all stopped.

He was ejected from the portal, sending him sprawling to his knees in the dirt and grime. It took Khan every ounce of willpower to stop himself from collapsing from exhaustion. He rolled onto his side, the heat creating dancing mirages ahead of him, and groaned.

"What the hell, is that a Pigman?"

The instant Khan registered the presence of another person; he was already on his feet. He drew his golden sword, a thin and long weapon. He caught a flash as his opponent; a bulky figure dressed from head to toe in chainmail, swung a sword high and brought it down onto him. Khan snarled in rage as he jumped backwards, feeling a rush of cold air as the blade narrowly missed his face. Empowered by his sadistic love of carnage, Khan stepped forwards and slashed wildly with his sword. The blade hissed as it cut through cold air, aimed at his opponent's midriff. A clang of metal resounded through the night as his assailant clumsily parried his blade. The sheer force of the attack yanked the sword from his opponent's hands and it plunged into the dirt.

His eyes connected with his assailant's, meeting him with an unforgiving glare. Khan held his sword up high, intent on plunging the blade deep into his opponent's thigh. The swordsman chanced a glance at his sword on the ground, contemplating whether or not he was quick enough to grab it and avoid his opponent's blade at the same time. Khan didn't give him the chance.

He maneuvered to get into a mount on his chest. The swordsman tried for a punch, but missed terribly. Khan had the dominant position and put his left hand at his throat. With his right, he spun the blade to a better hold. Khan stabbed into the swordsman's chest, sinking it all the way down. The handle rested against the fleshy lump. The hulking beast rolled off of him and away.

Satisfied, Khan cackled maniacally. It was time to let the world know it had a new master.

* * *

**Hey guys! Pacmantacco Here!**

**This series will be a collections of short stories, each one dedicated to bringing more life to one of Minecraft's many mobs.**

**Each chapter will be dedicated to a different mob.**

**Every mob will ****_eventually _****be covered, no exceptions.**

**Criticism is always welcomed!**

**~ Pac**


	2. Identity Crisis

_**Rust the Iron Golem in...**_

**Chapter 2: Identity Crisis**

Many years ago, the village would've been bustling with life. The townsfolk would venture out of the safety of their wooden shacks, blessed with the certainty that the undead had been burnt away by the sun's warm rays. They wasted no time attending to their daily activities, the farmers tended to the fields, the librarians fumbling with their books; there was once a serene sense of civility among the townsfolk.

Of course those days were long gone.

Now the town lay in utter ruin; buildings lay crushed and defiled, long lost to the elements. The fields became overgrown and unruly with no one left behind to tend to them.

Nature was already reclaiming its own. Wildlife normally fearful of settled areas had begun to wander inward, as the buildings became abandoned, fallen from non-use, burned down or demolished. Grass, trees, wildflowers and vines had overrun the brick, wood and cobblestone that had once stood in their place for decades, leaving only the crisscrossing gravel roads as reminders that land was once inhabited.

The townsfolk have long since left for greener pastures. Despite their tools of iron and jungles of cobblestone, they did not stand a chance against nature's invading forces. Humanity's a funny thing.

I remain alone, still keeping watch over the empty streets. As there is no one who remains for me to defend, I have plenty of time to do nothing but think. In this time I have wondered, what purpose do I hold in the world?

I came to life a chunk of iron, yet my origins are a mystery on which I continually speculate. Who forged my iron carapace? Who cast the magic that surges through my veins? And yet the ultimate question. Why?

Finally, I could no longer simply sit and wonder. I needed to know. Abandoning the post I had held for decades, and the village I had served with my life, I set out into the world.

For years a deep curiosity drove me, and I travelled the world seeking my origins, my creators, and my people. The forces that weather lesser rocks do not hinder me.

As I roam, I uncover more questions than answers. Nevertheless, my insatiable curiosity to know the truth urges me to continue.

I need to know.

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**Hey guys!**

**This was a bit of a short one, but I find it's still effective!**

**Which mobs are you looking forward to see in the upcoming stories?**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**

**~Pac**


	3. In the Jungle

_**Castella the Ocelot in...**_

**Chapter 3: In the Jungle**

The sun had just started to peer over the canopy, spreading its sunrays over the sleeping world. It was always, without fail, the first thing to pierce the darkness, carrying with it the torch of a new day.

As the sun rose higher into the morning sky it began to awake the jungle, slowly and efficiently. Yet despite the warm glow the sun cast onto its inhabitants, the serene peace of the jungle would soon come to an end.

A morning breeze coursed through the jungle making the vines and leaves dance with rhythm and finesse as though they were experts. The lush ceiba trees stood tall and firm as if the roots were clinging onto the earth for their very lives.

It was not long before the wolves, fierce predators of the jungles, howled to make their presence known after awakening from their pleasant slumber. The ocelots however, refused to announce their presence not only because of their conventionally shy nature but to also stay under the radar so they could catch their morning meals with ease.

Ocelots, as a general rule, were not meant to be chasers; so Castella had to rely on stalking her prey. She lay flat on her stomach, observing the waterhole where her prey was known to gather, from a safe distance. Hours passed by, and the ocelot's patience was tested as it staked out the clearing from the measly cover provided by a patch of low-lying shrubbery. Finally, just as she was about leave in the hopes of finding better hunting grounds, her patience was rewarded.

Wary at first, a hen emerged from the undergrowth and cautiously stepped out into the clearing. The bird was a pathetic sight, a wiry figure whose feathers seemed to be dangerously close to blowing away in faint the breeze. It was all the same to Castella.

The ocelot licked her lips eagerly. It wasn't just the idea of finally satisfying her hunger that excited her; it was the thrill of the hunt. She let the hen lull itself into a false sense of security, fervently waiting for her prey to lower its guard.

Castella tensed her muscles and grated the ground with their hind legs, never daring to take her eyes off the hen. She wriggled her tail vigorously to attain balance and prepared to pounce onto her unsuspecting pre-

"Alright boys, let's get to work!"

The booming cry echoed through the jungle; followed swiftly by the cacophonous sound of dull rhythmic thuds. The hen, startled by the sudden noise, darted off back into the undergrowth, disappearing almost as suddenly as it had arrived.

Castella hissed in frustration, pouncing belatedly onto the spot where her meal had stood only moments earlier. There was no point in pursuing the hen, by now it was likely long gone, frightened off by the noise.

She was still disgruntled by the loss of an easy meal, but curiosity overtook her instincts. The booming clamor that echoed through the jungle, drowning out the sounds of nature, seemed to beckon to her. So Castella, setting her hunger to the side, set out to find the source of the noise. Who knows? Maybe she'd be able to grab a bite to eat along the way.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**Another short one, but don't fret!**

**Plenty of longer stories are currently in progress at the moment!**

**As always, criticism is welcome!**

**~Pac**


	4. All In My Head

_**Zed the Zombie in...**_

**Chapter 4: All In My head**

"He hadn't bitten me," I repeated to myself for the thousandth time that night in a pathetic attempt to comfort myself. "I'd gotten cut during the fight, but it wasn't a bite."

He'd tackled me through the shelves a vacant marketplace. I had been scrounging through the last of the leftover goods, desperately looking for anything remotely useful, when a shelf toppled over and pinned me down. He had been pinned down as well, clawing at the empty racks in a desperate to get closer to me. My sword had been knocked far out of my reach and my bow pinned to my side, likely snapped in two by the impact anyways.

The splintered wood had left a deep gash in my shoulder. His fingers, worn away to the bone and crusted with blood and rotting flesh, managed to find a hold on the lip of the shelf. I scrambled to get away as he pulled herself out of the wreckage. My shoulder screamed in agony with every movement.

Just as he had finally freed herself, my fingers had found purchase around the hilt of my sword and I plunged it through her neck. She did not bleed like a normal person would. Nevertheless I abandoned the blade, not ever wanting to wield it again.

I stumbled out of the marketplace and into the gravel streets. My shoulder was dripping with bright, crimson blood. It soaked through the threadbare scraps of my shirt, shining a bit in the moonlight. I was transfixed.

My shoulder pulsed with pain. The blood wouldn't stop flowing. I carefully examined the wound and noted that the skin was starting to swell red. Maybe it had cut deeper than I initially thought. The skin around the gash was swelling. Hopefully it wasn't infected. It wasn't a bite at least.

As I wandered the streets, an insatiable hunger suddenly crept up on me. Once I felt it, I couldn't shake it out of my head. I immediately collapsed on the side of the road, fishing a loaf of bread out from my pouch. I took bit a big chunk out of the loaf, and spat it out immediately. It tasted awful, like choking down chalk-flavored cardboard.

It must've gone bad, I thought to myself. Not wanting to risk another bite, I threw the loaf to the side of the road. I reached into my pouch again, but came up with nothing.

It was freezing out. My skin had grown clammy. I rubbed my arms, trying to generate some warmth, but it was useless. In the dark, I could barely see. My eyes ached, hopefully from the lack of sleep. My shoulder was still in agonizing pain. It hadn't even been that long, but the blood had started drying around the edge of the wound. As a matter of fact, it was already scabbing.

In the woods off the path, I sensed movement. A wild pig, maybe. I could hear it. Smell it. Taste it. I pictured the juicy haunches and hearty meat. I barely noticed that I was salivating. One bite of unpalatable bread hadn't nearly filled me up, but maybe some pork would.

Unconsciously, I moved into the woods driven by some unseen force. Part of me knew something was wrong, that I should just go back, but that thought just fell out of my mind. If I went back, I might lose the pig, I rationalized. There was no reason to go back.

I blundered through the trees, probably making enough noise to alert every living creature within a mile radius. Branches lashed against my bare arms, but the pain had been reduced to a dull numbness. I couldn't feel the scratches left behind by the branches that tore at my flesh; or anything at all. I told myself that it was a sign of healing. Miraculously, the pig wasn't running. I sped up my pace, still able to smell it nearby. I didn't even bother looking at where I was going; I could practically taste it.

I burst into a clearing, illuminated by the fading moonlight. Every flash of concern was quickly forgotten as I spotted the pig ahead of me. I dashed ahead, sprinting full out with a burst of speed. I'd never run like this before. In the back of my mind, I could feel my thighs screaming in pain, but it was like I was disconnected from my body. I pushed myself hard, harder than I ever have before. I chased my fleeing prey like a hound, salivating heavily as a bound after it. It weaved through the trees, agile and fast, but somehow I was managing to catch up.

It seemed to have a lame leg; that was the only way I could have caught it. Saliva dribbled down my chin as I panted and gasped for air, but my lungs weren't burning like they should have been. I pursued the pig, blundering blindly through brush and branches, until I managed to dive and grab it by its hind leg. It squealed and thrashed wildly as I got a better grip. My hand ripped into its hide, tearing off a chunk of leathery skin.

Without hesitation, I pinned down the pig and tore at its throat. A gush of blood sprayed onto the ground. I dipped my head and ripped at the wound, tearing away a mass of flesh and blood with my teeth. I chewed and swallowed it eagerly, savoring every bite.

I needed more. The pig was still struggling in intense pain, flailing wildly. Uncaring, I took another bite from its throat. I took more meat from my kill, barely stopping to chew. Blood splattered across my head and chest as I practically burrowed into it, shredding the pig to pieces. I couldn't get enough. My stomach seemed to get emptier with each bite. I had lost all control.

When I had finished off the pig, I stood suddenly. I needed more to satisfy my hunger.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**As promised, here is a longer story.**

**I hope you're all enjoying the series so far!**

**As always, criticism is welcomed.**

**~Pac**


	5. Turning the Tables

_**General Ood the Squid in...**_

**Chapter 5: Turning the Tables**

It had always been this way for my kind. It was just a flicker of an idea before, a promise of the greatness due to us in a few thousand years, as evolution ran its course. But one little mistake by the land-dwellers, one fantastic, colorful explosion, had brought it all to fruition in an instant.

For far too long these selfish imbeciles had poisoned our waters with their chemicals, horribly deforming out kind. They've destroyed our, erecting hideous structures in their place. They've stolen our families from us. They've kidnapped our children to keep as pets, or stole us from our homes for food. For years, the land-dwellers performed unforgivable acts on our kind. It was unbearable, but we couldn't do anything but accept it.

Well, not anymore. Today would be the glorious start to our revolution! No longer would we be tossed to the side and trampled over! We built machines that rivaled theirs, it took years but we finally did it-we would be able to storm their beaches as an indestructible force, and they would bow to our whims.

I braced myself as I lurched my way onto the shore, in what was essentially a water-filled bubble with robotic legs. Thousand of identical contraptions joined me as we marched our way towards the city. They stared in horror and they screamed and hid their children away. But that wouldn't stop us.

I made my way to the town square, blasting the few humans who attempted to block me with high powered laser, weaponry that put their flint headed arrows to shame. I positioned myself in the dead centre of the plaza and set the machine to amplify my voice; I wanted them all to hear me.

"Attention, humans! The day has come to finally put your kind in your place! We have technology that puts yours to shame, and an army that is all but interminable! You have been reckless with the gift of knowledge bestowed upon you, trampling nature without care, leaving those below you to be left for dead. But now it is out turn; to wipe your measly existence in one mighty blow!"

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**Woohoo! 300+ views!**

**I hope everyone's enjoying the series so far!**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**

**~Pac**


	6. Prison Break

_**Grimm the Spider Jockey in...**_

**Chapter 6: Prison Break**

Little known to the inhabitants of the surface world, The Bedrock is a subterranean prison where the worst of the creatures of the night are sent for crimes against their fellows. It is a razor barbed warren full of cannibalistic undead, treacherous creepers and psychopathic arachnids. In this dim labyrinth of caverns, patrolled and guarded by the most merciless of monsters, only the vicious survive.

There is no such thing as harmony among the inmates of the Bedrock. By bite, or claw, or pincer, or fang, even the slightest sign of weakness means a swift and bloody death. In hushed whispers they say that the Jockey was just a young lad working away in the fields, Pitched into the Bedrock for crimes unknown.

He quickly found himself imprisoned, his new cellmate turning out to be a fierce spider. The second the guards shut the door to his cell and turned their backs on him, he was swept up by the massive arachnid, looking for take-out. But the young boy had a better idea, and wriggled his way from his captor's grip and onto the beast's back, hacking it down with his own bare hands. Hours later, he emerged from the bloody wreckage, intoxicated by the thrill of flight. The boy had realized he'd found his calling.

The boy grew, spending half a lifetime without kin or kindness, trusting no one, barely surviving through a combination of stealth and ruthlessness. The years went on, but his fire only grew stronger.

Finally he found himself with a new inmate, another spider.

After convincing the arachnid not to immediately eat him, the Jockey set about carefully training alongside his inmate, preparing their escape. They remained in Bedrock for many years, but finally they were ready.

Drunk on liquid courage, the duo flew into an unstoppable berserker rage, destroying the cell bars and exploding through walls and guards alike. They spent hours navigating through the network of caverns, soon finding themselves lost in a forest with a trail of wreckage left behind in their wake and no signs of pursuit. Finally tasting freedom, the arachnid seemed serene and even eager.

Resolving to work together, the pair set off to enjoy their freedom alongside one another, taking on the world together.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I hope you're enjoying the story so far!**

**Unfortunately, for the next day or two I won't be able to post stories.**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**


	7. Finally an Answer

**_Kenny the Chicken in..._**

**_Chapter 7: Finally an Answer_**

"C'mon Kenny, you can tell me. I swear I won't tell anyone!"

The whole room burst into laughter, never seeming to tire of the joke. Kenny seemed to be the only one to not crack a smile. The joke seemed to haunt him wherever he went and frankly, he was getting quite tired of it.

Finally something snapped inside of him.

"Alright, if you guys want to know so bad listen real close." He snarled. "I don't want to have to repeat myself."

Immediately the room fell silent, everyone stunned by Kenny's uncharacteristic outburst of rage. Every pair of eyes was glued to Kenny, fearful, yet curious, of how the seemingly innocent joke could've provoked Kenny's unusually calm composure. Finally Tuck, a tall, beefy figure, rose from his seat and, avoiding Kenny's venomous stare, broke the silence.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think tha-"

"You shut your trap Tuck!" Kenny hissed, staring daggers at his friend. "You lot are clearly so curious! So why don't I enlighten you all!"

Tuck sighed, raised his hands above his hand in mock surrender and returned to his seat. Kenny tossed on last glance around the room, as if daring the others to speak up, before sitting down himself.

"It all started with my old pal Sanders." Kenny began, taking on a distant look. "Sanders woke up one morning feeling particularly down; rolled out of the stack of hay he used as bedding, and looked out of his grimy window, staring intently at the bleak and dreary world he had once called home." Kenny cleared his voice, overtaken by a distant look. "Things hadn't always been like this for Sanders. He could remember a time where the wrong side of the bed was less a commitment, more of a now and then acquaintance, seldom called on and less appreciated. Once, he had enjoyed the finer things in life. The occasional stroll through the fields of wheat, dining on fine grains, mingling with others... But alas, that world was long gone. It had left with his wife."

Kenny sniffled, his voice now heavy with emotion.

"Poor old Sanders still wasn't sure what had happened that day. He faintly remembered being awoken early in the morning; but that was nothing out of the ordinary, especially with plenty of young ones in the house. What happened next was lost in a blur of flashing lights. Even sound had lost its place in his memories. He recalled fighting something with all he was worth. But just as strongly, he remembered being overpowered by whatever it was that took her away, and waking up hours later with a splitting headache to an empty house."

"Nobody could say Sanders didn't try looking for her. For weeks at a time he hardly slept, wandering the countryside in a doomed quest to restore the only order he ever had to his life. It was in the few days before his surrender that this pervading thought had entered his mind. Gray. A rough, sweet grayness that maybe just maybe might hold all of the answers he so desperately needed."

Kenny cleared his voice, everyone in the room captivated by his tale.

"Old Sanders was well aware of the risks the accompanied the seemingly infinite stretch of gray, but at this point that made it all the more tempting. He tried to continue as he once had. But again and again that stretch of gray never failed to creep into his mind, consuming all hope of regaining normalcy. Sanders didn't remember when exactly he decided; perhaps it had been more a process than a single moment. When pressed upon consistently one will eventually give in. The stretch of gray was like a slow but steady stream, and he the stubborn landscape."

"Poor old Sanders desperately yearned to take the first few steps onto that path. Hoping and praying that what he found would be better than what he would be leaving behind. Then, in a flash of self awareness, Sanders realized he didn't care what he found on the other side of the abyss. He firmly believed that anything or nothing at all was better than what he had now. Whether or not he would encounter his wife and children didn't matter anymore. Whether or not he passed on into oblivion didn't matter. He would take that first step. And follow it with another and another until he knew. He had to know. He had to. And so he set out. Knowing with certainty that the journey would be his last."

"As he arrived to the edge, he became aware of a faint canter that he hadn't heard the first time he'd staked out to this spot. But with his mind set he teetered on the edge.

"With his first step somewhere in the distance the sound of a whiney echoed. With his second a young chestnut horse galloped ever closer towards Sanders. With his third step Sanders chanced a grim grin as he realized that his purpose in coming was almost realized. With his fourth step, the rider, realizing too late made a desperate attempt to slow his horse. With his last step Larry turned his head just in time to stare at the beast that would soon trample him and thought to himself, "Finally.""

"The horse cantered onwards; blissfully unaware of the life it had just taken, of the sadness he had mercifully, and accidentally, ended."

"Its rider will never know what we do. He will forever ask himself in regret: "Why did the chicken cross the road?" And we will be reminded of poor old Sanders, and solemnly give our answer, "To get to the other side.""

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**Woohoo!**

**I'm back with reliable internet!**

**That means more stories are soon to come!**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this long-winded joke.**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**


	8. A Matter of Time

_**Trophonius the Enderman in...**_

**Chapter 8: A Matter of Time**

The lush forest that Trophonius ambled through was dense enough to be closed and comforting, yet open enough to let cascades of sunlight show through the canopy and warm the clearing. The faint gurgle of running water could be heard from off in the distance, perhaps there was a stream nearby.

The lush greens and dark browns that encompassed him were lightened by the sunlight that peeked through the canopy above and bathed the plant and moss covered nature below. The light warm breeze sent the leaves dancing with a rhythm and elegance as though they were experts.

It was a truly enchanting place to be. Yet as much as Trophonius wished he could linger and admire the landscape, he forced himself to remember that he had a job to do.

He knelt on the soft layers of moss that carpeted the forest floor. The moss was dry and springy on his bare skin as he set to work.

Trophonius busied himself with the mundane task of grabbing handfuls of dirt and other organic matter, combining them to form a sizeable clump. He worked for hours, carefully sculpting a cube of soil until it was roughly the size of his own head.

With great effort, he lifted the solid cube of dirt and held it out in front of him. Trophonius took one last wistful look at the beautiful landscape and was struck by a pang of sadness.

The inhabitants of the lush and vibrant world were oblivious to the inevitable end, an end that his kind's destructive nature would be responsible for.

Suddenly, terrain around him disappeared. As if being pulled through the air by an unseen force, his vision was reduced to a blurry tunnel in front of him. Bright streaks of light had begun to consume his vision and time jumped forwards. Orgasmic explosions of color blinded his vision. An eternity seemed to pass by as Trophonius stared out, unblinking, at the images of flowering nebulae, fiery stars and barren asteroids that hurtled by.

Despite the hectic scenes that had engulfed him, Trophonius remained calm and composed. He had witnessed the vivid scenes plenty of times. They had always accompanied him whenever he tapped into the ancestral ability of his kind; time travel.

All of a sudden, it was over. The vivid sensations faded away, signifying a successful time warp.

The sensation of grass tickling his bare feet had been swiftly replaced with coarse ground carpeted with a fine powdery dust. The sky around him fell into darkness and took on a dark purple tinge. Trophonius looked at his surroundings with remorse.

He was home.

Trophonius carried the burden of his cube of dirt with great care and placed it alongside the others. Each cube, stacked on top of one on another to form a massive mound, had been brought back from the past by his kin.

It was all a fruitless attempt to restore their world to its former beauty, before they had worn it away to its core. It was a gradual effort, but his kin were determined to see it through.

Perhaps one day, life would return to the barren landscape. Perhaps his kind would receive a second chance.

Perhaps in time…

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**Tomorrow, I think I may turn up the heat.**

**Or maybe I should keep things cool.**

**Or maybe both!**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**


	9. Into the Fire

_**Prometheus the Blaze in...**_

_**Chapter 9: Into the Fire**_

His eyelids felt heavy as he stared at the small, controlled flame that rose and fell hypnotically in his palm. Physically, the man was exhausted, but tonight his mind racing.

Ever since he was a kid, fire had always had a special place in the man's heart. When controlled, it could be friendly and useful. When unconstrained, it was beautifully chaotic. He had always preferred the unpredictable side of an untamed fire.

Of course with the right knowledge, you could tell for certain whether any given campfire would meekly peter out into a pathetic sizzle or spread into a mighty brushfire, but to measure the angles of a single flame in motion, swaying in the breeze was beyond his human limitations. To put into mere words and numbers the way the flame moved with magnificence and grace in a flicker of hot blues, reds and yellows, a painting in motion so impossibly hot that your vision blurs and your retinas sear; impossible.

The way it so easily could destroy and engulf anything in its path yet still remain so deceivingly stunning sent a rush of adrenaline through the man. Now, he could be the maker of this beautifully destructive force.

Merely thinking about the deadly grace of fire sent the flame in his hand higher rising two or three feet above his hand and nearing dangerously close to the wall that the man was leaning against. The orange slice of flame slithered upward from his open palm like oily smoke; thick, intangible, deadly and beautiful. His eyes glowed orange with the reflection of the flickering flame.

But soon he grew bored of making the fires dance for him.

He wished to see the world burn.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**One down in our Fire and Ice special, one to go!**

**In case you are confused, this story is of someone's transformation into a blaze.**

**A bit of a different take on these stories.**

**As always, criticism is welcome!**


	10. Princess of Ice

_**Lyrai the Snow Golem in...**_

**Chapter 10: Princess of Ice**

Born in a temperate forest biome, raised alongside her bulky older brother Bruno, Lyrai the snow golem soon found that her innate elemental affinity to ice had the tendency to create trouble for all those around her.

Unlike her older brother, who was tasked with guarding the townsfolk, Lyrai was not bound by any responsibilities. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel as if she messed everything up.

She had been summoned to bring happiness to her creators, spreading patches of snow in order to bring joy to the younger townsfolk. But soon they began to bore of her trails of snow, and then their boredom turned to annoyance.

Lakes and mountain rivers froze in moments if she stopped to rest nearby; ripening crops were bitten by the harsh frost, and fruiting orchards were transformed into mazes of ice and soon came crashing down, spoiled.

When the exasperated townsfolk could no longer afford to care for their golem citizens, Lyrai was among the first to go.

While her brother was packed off to work for a different town, Lyrai found herself banished to the cold reaches of the taiga which lay to the north.

There, she was taken in by a clan of elite snow golems who had carved themselves a collection of hermitages at the crown of the glacier. They trained her, teaching her to harness the magic that lied within the beings of their proud race.

After long study, the clan had pronounced her ready for solitary practice and sent her off into the frozen wastes to start a clan of her own. Although this was the second time she had been sent away from the ones she loved, she faced the frozen wastes proud and full of purpose.

She spent years exploring the world, gathering a strong and loyal following which only grew with every town she passed. Yet her life was incomplete; not until she was reunited with her brother.

Her mastery of the frozen arts had only deepened since that time, and now her skills were unmatched. With great ease, Lyrai could call forth mighty blizzards in a pinch and entrap her enemies in an icy tomb.

She was destined to become the Princess of the Ice.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I hope you're all enjoying the series so far!**

**As always, criticism is welcome!**


	11. A Hero Rises

_**Darkwing the Bat in...**_

**Chapter 11: A Hero Rises**

The world was no longer safe for our kind. We lived our lives in constant fear. Children lost in the dark were never expected return at daylight. Even to leave our own homes was to put our very lives at great risk. We dreaded the shadows, for they housed our greatest enemies.

There was a time when we had lived in peace for centuries, savaging the tall grass and gnarled roots for scraps. We were neither strong nor dignified creatures, but nevertheless we survived. Us Rodents were weak, but many in numbers.

Recently, in a desperate attempt to forage food, we had made excursions into unknown structures. They were massive, with walls that stretched taller than most trees. We found openings, tiny faults in the massive structures, whenever we could, penetrating their mighty fortresses.

Inside we found the Giants; terrible behemoths that shook the very ground with their steps. Their strength was fascinating; capable of displacing entire mountains with a simple slight of the hand. Though they were beyond massive, they were horribly dumb. Our kind moved easily around them, weaving through the walls, and behind their massive statues.

Why risk all this danger, you ask? Inside these towering statues we could find subsistence. Food beyond our wildest imaginings piled up to the heavens above. This is the kind of discovery our scouts risk everything to find. Stockpiles like this can save our kind from elimination by the predators of the wild.

But with the discovery of the great treasure, we had found new enemies here in the mighty fortresses. They were terrible creatures; glowing eyes, silent, razor sharp teeth and claws, and as agile as the shadows; the feline.

They took a sadistic delight in stalking us. They maimed our scouts without a single care. They have even given the corpses of Rodents as trophies to the Giants. Inside the fortresses lay a cruel world. The feline soon became our greatest enemies.

It was not long before the Giants came after our kind as well. They ventured out of their fortresses and forced us from our very homes. They brought poisons that suffocated even the strongest of our kind. They maintained an iron grip over our nests, controlling us with smoke and cutting off our food sources.

But there are rumors whispered by the scouts of our ranks. They say there is a great hero who keeps watch over us; striking feat into the hearts of both the Giants and feline. They hide high above all, even above the Giant's reach!

They were as black as the night, and possessed shrieks that pierced the very air. We have seen Giant's flee at their presence and feline's hiss and bare their teeth in dread.

But they did not threaten the rest of us Rodents; in fact they almost appear to be one of us! They are of our size, our face, our skin. But with the wings! They soar far above us all, only to swoop in and claim their prey in without noise.

We had sent an envoy in hopes of finding these dark heroes. Maybe an agreement could be reached.

But for now, Rodents had more hope than ever before.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I hope you're all enjoying the story so far!**


	12. The King of Thieves

_**Corvo the Villager in...**_

_**Chapter 12: The King of Thieves**_

I had always enjoyed hearing the great fables brought from back distant lands by the adventurers who set out abroad. But one story had stuck with me in particular; the story of the beavers.

I had always enjoying hearing the tales of beavers who, even after their dam had been completed, just kept cutting down trees, mowing down entire forests in their quests to keep building. Maybe the beavers thought they'd never finish, and by the time they finally did, cutting trees was the only thing they knew how to do. It just made sense to me.

My story became a lot like that of the beavers.

I had all started off simple; stealing the little crumbs that society left behind because I had no other choice.

Then my heists steadily became riskier, bolder. Now I steal things for one reason and one reason only; because I want to.

You have to realize that this all started out innocent enough. I was young and living on the streets with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. A kid has got to eat to live right? To satisfy my basic needs, I would steal from the local markets and shops. It wasn't a noble life, but I survived.

But then you get that feeling; an adrenaline rush that you can feel surging through your veins. You feel like you're a king when you get away with something. And then you realize that what you do is beautiful. You can be creative. You learn the tips and tricks, all the ins and outs to this little game. You realize that what you do is more than just thievery, it's an art.

One time I walked right out of the front door of a bakery carrying armloads of pastries, delicacies reserved for the rich. And to put the icing on the cake, no pun intended, I got the baker himself to hold the door open for me.

I have lived many lives; working as a thief, a pickpocket, and as a con man. I've broke into houses. I've slipped wads of money right out of people's pockets. I've broken into people's heads and convinced them to practically give me their goods. Now that's what I call a fun time!

So that's my story. I started off scrounging for scraps out in the streets, but ended up with a full time job. I just can't get enough of that feeling, and I just want more. I can't say I'm proud of the life I live, but I am proud of the work I do.

You probably ask yourselves, when does this stop? Well, the answer is really quite simple. It stops when I have every damn thing the universe owes me.

* * *

**Hey Guys!**

**I was wondering, would any of you guys be interested in seeing a full story made out of these characters?**

**If so, which characters would you like to see move on to the new series?**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**


	13. Bounty Hunter

_**Tara the Skeleton in...**_

**Chapter 13: Bounty Hunter**

Tara weaved her way carefully among the dense reeds, treading oh-so-carefully as she sneaked her towards the edge of the pond. The heavy stench of rotting, damp vegetation, released afresh with every careful placement of her boot. Of course the smell didn't bother her; she didn't have any nostrils after all. Wanting to avoid making any unnecessary noise, she moved slowly. The tall grasses paid her no heed and made no sound.

Her quarry remained oblivious.

She had lost sight of him for several moments and had no choice but to duck into a clump of taller reeds. She felt a cattail tangle into her quiver, but, moving slow enough to turn time itself backwards, she untangled herself and continued onwards. She was as silent as the dead, yet just as lethal as a prowling beast.

As part of her extensive training in the academy, she had learned to ignore the sounds around her that were nothing but background. Off in the distance a hen scratched at the ground, the wind whistled through the reeds and water gently lapped against the shore but Tara blocked it all out. She glanced around, and seeing no threats, moved on.

The rippling water of the pond soon came into view again, but much to Tara's disdain, she realized that her target had wandered off. He had made no effort to cover his tracks and Tara could spot imprints in the muddy bank with ease.

She shook her head in disapproval; her quarry had trampled recklessly through the reeds, clearly marking out his path in the vegetation. Nevertheless, she forced herself to remember that she hadn't been sent to kill an amateur. Her quarry had a reputation as notorious as he was vicious.

Tara turned back in time to see something, or rather, someone, brush against the reeds a mere ten paces away. She could make out footsteps, heavy boots squishing the pond mud, and then a slight, stifled chuckle.

Suddenly, before Tara could react, her target burst out from the reeds shouting a ferocious war cry. In only took the glint of steel standing out in the darkness of the night, for Tara to realize that her assailant was armed.

Out of pure instinct, Tara spun around; fist balled, and lashed out at her target. Her assailant however was ready. Or, perhaps, Tara was too slow. Her opponent dodged around the strike and shoved her with both hands. Tara staggered awkwardly swinging her arms out for balance, but there was nothing for her to grab. She fell into the mud, cringing as her head spun.

The man approached her, a long curved knife in hand, with a wolf like grin creeping onto his face. With barely a thought, Tara removed one of her ribs and brought it down onto her assailant's foot. The improvised weapon pierced through his boot and into the ground.

The man screamed out in agony, letting his knife drop to the side. Tara took the opportunity to plant a swift kick into his chest. As the man stumbled backwards from force of the blow, Tara had already raised her bow, arrow nocked, the string already drawn by the time she had the tip of the arrow trained on her assailant, who now lay in a crumpled heap before her.

The bow twanged with a ringing familiarity, the arrow whistling away like an eager hound across the open space. Letting her bow arm lower, Tara watched expectantly as the arrow sunk into her assailant's skull with a satisfying thwack.

Tara slung the bow over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth curling upwards in a cruel smirk. Admittedly, she had done a rather sloppy job. Nevertheless her quarry was dead; all that remained was to collect her reward.

She had garnered quite a reputation as of late, and as a result plenty of work. Her work varied from common hits to assassination, whatever paid well. For the right price, the hunted know all too well that they will be found. For the right price, even the mightiest will find fear in their shadows.

* * *

**Hey Guys!**

**I was wondering, would any of you guys be interested in seeing a full story made out of these characters?**

**If so, which characters would you like to see move on to the new series?**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**

**~Pac**


	14. It's Hard to Say Goodbye

**_Bear the Wolf in..._**

**Chapter 14: It's Hard to Say Goodbye**

I remember the day fondly. I had my favorite food that day, thick meaty strips of raw beef. He had brought it to me, then sat beside me and stroked my tangled fur as I ate. I wasn't able to finish it all, so I pushed it over to him so he could have it. He had done everything for me, the least I could've done is share with him. He started crying and kissed me, so I licked him in return. I couldn't understand why he was so sad, all I understood was that day; he left me.

That day we had gone on a grand adventure, as we did every day. I would've never guessed that it would be our last time together. I remember getting hurt that day, but he had taken the greatest care of me. He had rushed to my side, stroking my fur as he fed scraps of stringy meat, asking me the whole time if I was okay. I responded with the wag of my tail and he wrapped his arms around me tightly, starting to cry again.

Maybe if I understood his sadness, I could've stopped him from leaving.

But it was too late to make regrets. He was gone now, leaving me alone in the world to fend for myself. I didn't know what to do without him. There was no one to obey, no one listen to. I was on my own.

I had stayed behind at the house for a few days, hoping he would come back, hoping he had just gotten himself lost as he had done in the past. He never returned.

Common sense took over and I realized that I would starve if I stayed at the house for much longer, he wouldn't want that. He wasn't there to feed me anymore, but I knew how to hunt, how to track. Even after I joined him, my natural instincts stayed with me.

Maybe this was all a game; that must be it. He would never let me go hungry. He must be hiding somewhere waiting expectantly for me to find him. How could I be so foolish to think he would just leave me?

I perked up immediately, convinced by my new theory. With newfound determination, I leapt out the doorway and into the world. He was out there, I was sure of it.

I just needed to find him.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**This is my first attempt at making a short story.**

**Let me know what you think!**

**Once again, I would like to know if you guys would like to see a complete series made out of these characters.**

**As always, criticism is welcome!**


	15. The Last of My Kind

_**Amethyst the Ender Dragon in...**_

**Chapter 15: The Last of My Kind**

Things were supposed to be different…

I've always found in perplexing how easily history has painted my kind to be the bad guys; always made out to be the evil serpents coiling around their stolen hordes of gold and loot. It was always the epic battles of knights in shining armor fending off against vicious beasts with nothing more than bits of metal and their wits. All lies.

Things were never as they were seen in fairy tales, never like the stories foretold.

Greed…

It always came down to greed with humans. It's funny that they painted dragons as covetous and close-fisted when the humans ran a permanent gambit for more...more...more.

We never stole from the humans, we were creators. We took only from the earth and built from the beauty we saw. When we came to this world it was new and flat; a blank canvas awaiting artists to help bring out what was waiting just beneath the surface. We raised mountains that would stand for generations and caves that would take generations to be explored. We saw all the precious ores; the diamonds, the iron, the gold as little more than another part of the earth. To our wise and ancient race, they were as equal as the dirt and the air.

Gold and jewels were merely tools for my kind, far from precious. Yet for reasons that remain incomprehensible, for humanity it was so much more. At first we were happy to share our wealth with what we deemed to be insignificant creatures. We did share the same world after all. We felt pity for the small, fleshy creatures that saw the world they had helped craft as nothing more than something to be exploited. In a momentary fault of my great race's wisdom, we allowed the humans to push back on us and ask for more.

We saw humanity as merely a child trying to see how far it could push its limits, how much it could take. But like any child who threw a tantrum and wasn't reprimanded they learned they could get away with it without consequence. My races' wisdom was outshone only by our naivety. "Just a little bit more" we would say. "They are only trying to explore the world". Excuses soon flew faster than us dragons.

And so my kind fell...

And with our fall came the stories of 'brave' humans who rose up against the beasts of avarice to take what was 'rightfully theirs'. And with their fall, I felt myself shatter. Not because I realized that humanity would never learn from its lesson, or because humanity had not only bitten the hand of the very creatures that desired to guide and teach them but crushed it.

But because I realized that we, the true artists of this world, the dragons, would never return to our great strength. And that all the natural beauty – the bends in the stream, the depths of the oceans, and the rolling hills of green – was merely a shadow of an unfinished masterpiece.

Humanity will pay, I will make them pay.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**I got a super secret project in the works!**

**But I hope you guys are enjoying the series so far!**

**I'll let you guys know what it is before the big unveiling!**

**As always, criticism is welcome!**


	16. Bravery

_**Major the Pig in...**_

**Chapter 16: Bravery**

Major was only slowing the rest of the group down. They didn't want to admit it but he knew. The arrow that had pierced his thigh screamed with agonizing pain with every step he took. Henry kept glancing back at him, worry darkening his face. Paul was visibly anxious; he didn't want to lose his own life just because Major couldn't keep up.

"Come on Major you can do it, I know you can do it! The docks are only a few minutes away!" Olivia said, putting every ounce of encouragement she could muster into the statement. Tufts of wiry hair stuck to her face from sweat, her eyes wide open with fear. Despite the gravity of the situation, Major wanted to laugh. They weren't nearly as close as Olivia made it sound, and the Wildlings were hot on their tails. Major could hear their terrifying shrieks and hollers, their thirst for blood chilling his bones.

Major could make out the tunnel just ahead. They would have to make in through the tunnel, through another mile of forest before finally reaching the safety of the docks.

There was no chance that he would make it… but maybe they could.

As they neared the mouth of the cave, Major stopped. The rest of the group stopped fast and turned. "Hurry it up you old pig! We don't have the time to waste!" Paul called back, almost running in place.

Major shook his head. "You go on ahead. It's better this way. I've lived my life; I've seen what I've wanted to see. You need to go. All of you. You can make it. I'll hold them off at the mouth of the tunnel. They'll only be able to come at me a couple at a time. I'll hold the line so you can stroll to the boats."

Olivia frowned "Major don't be a fool." Henry lingered, saying nothing. He had known Major long enough to tell that he had made up his mind. "You won't survive this! They'll slaughter you if you stay back!"

"I know."

Olivia opened her mouth to protest but Henry grabbed her, shaking his head.

They turned and ran, their footsteps echoing through the tunnel.

Major turned back to the forest and prepared himself. He spun his arms, getting them loosened up. Age had slowed him down, but his strength remained. The Wildlings would water the ground of this cave with his blood.

At last, the first one appeared then a second then a third. Soon enough, Major could count at least thirty of them, staring at him, bloodlust evident in their eyes. "Come and get me!" Major roared. He could feel his heart pounding and his arms seemed to become lighter. The first Wildling to charge him fell with a swift bash to the chest. The second took a crushing blow to the face, forcing its snout back into its skull.

"For the king!" A red mist began to blind his vision and Major threw himself at a Wildling. He felt a jagged sword cut into deep into his leg, he turned and jabbed his assailant in the ribs. An arrow took him in the chest, causing him to stagger back. Another arrow cut into his right arm, forcing a cry of pain out of him. He roared and smashed his fists into another Wildling. He hoped that he had bought the rest of his party enough time, because he had the dreading feeling that his own was running out.

A young and reckless Wildling charged at him and forced a the blade of its sword straight through Major's torso. Major was far beyond feeling pain. Drawing from last of his dwindling strength, he reached down and pulled the blade through him, hand over hand, until he was face to face with the Wildling who had stabbed him. He Despite the intense pain that had consumed him, he smiled. "You're coming with me." He whispered before head butting the Wildling, crushing his skull.

Arrows rained down on him, swords drove through him, and everything went dark.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**How's everyone enjoying the series so far?**

**Concerning the mobs to be released in the upcoming snapshot...**

**How would you guys feel about a 4 part special?**

**As always, criticism is welcomed!**

**~Pac**


	17. Spider Spawn

_**Anansi the Cave Spider in...**_

**Chapter 17: Spider Spawn**

There was no such thing as harmony among the creatures of the Toxic Wastes to the Far East. By bite, or claw, or pincer, or fang, even the slightest display of weakness guaranteed a swift and painful death. Yet even within this hostile menagerie, Anansi is acknowledged as the deadliest. Poison surged through her veins and bubbled in her gut as she scuttled, climbed and swooped between the fluorescent vines which dripped with caustic tree sap.

For decades, Anansi had lurked in the dark network of caverns deep beneath the smoldering caldera of the Toxic Wastes, raising thousands of young spiderlings in safety before sending them off into the world above. They learned to fend for themselves, drawing from the potent venom which flowed through their veins to survive the harsh environment.

Of course, Anansi's great empire soon came to an end. In a later age, the humans laid siege to the caverns, attracted by the magnetic wealth that lay within the earth itself.

After millennia of maternal peace, Anansi found herself beset by a steady trickle of miners and prospectors; noble workers sent by the barons of their realm to lay their grubby little hands on whatever they found precious. All of them proved to be quite delicious, certainly, and yet they tended to create a less than nurturing home for her innocent offspring. Tiring of the constant stream of intrusions, Anansi paid a visit to Miners Society; and when they proved to be unwilling to discuss a compromise, she ensnared the council within a tapestry of silk and set them aside to be the centerpiece of a special birthday feast.

Unfortunately, the absence of the imposing council merely emboldened a new generation of intruders. When one of her newborns was brutally murdered and trodden underfoot by a clumsy adventurer, she had finally reached the end of her delicate silken rope. Anansi headed straight for the surface, declaring her intent to rid the world of each and every possible invader, down to the last miner if necessary. She vowed to never rest until she could ensure her nursery might once more be a safe and wholesome sanctuary for her precious spawn.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**Back to school for me!**

**Unfortunately, that means the uploads will become slightly infrequent.**

**I'll try and have every mob's story finished soon enough!**

**As always, criticism is appreciated!**

**~Pac**


	18. A Proper Steed

_**Sir Benedict the Horse in...**_

**Chapter 18: A Proper Steed**

"I'm never going to be a proper steed, am I?"

"Oh don't be so disheartened lad; there were four of against to one of you. You learned a valuable lesson all horses must learn, no steed outside of a proper legend is a match for four men. Next time I'd expect you to simply not fight, to flee even. There's no shame at all in picking your battles."

"Yes Sir Benedict, but I had to fight them, they left me no choice!"

"Is that so?"

"They claimed our legion was as weak as the pony that we wear on our shields, and as passive as the flowers it stands in. They said I would end up the same from your training. I just wanted to show them that you trained me fight well. I swear I could've taken each and every one of them in combat; they just got me by surprise!"

"Why exactly do you care of what those colts have to say?"

"They were from Sir. Lannister's legion. They wear the flaming skeletal horses of his house and claim any of them could take me with one hoof tied behind their backs! They refused to fight me honorably; not like any true steed would. Why a pony in the field though Sir? I know we are the toughest of all the legions, so why not choose a symbol that shows this? We could have a bull with a head on its impaled on its horn, or maybe a great serpent wrapped around a ship! I would wear that with pride!"

"Before I had earned my own house I fought briefly under Sir Wollemi, the-"

"Pack of wolves devouring a man? I am well aware! That definitely shows the strength and prowess of a true fighter."

"... Yes, the wolves eating a man... Whenever we entered a battle the enemy would see our emblem and would be smitten by fear. We would immediately be singled out as the most dangerous and would often take the heaviest arrow fire once combat began. During the battle of Five Plains we were slaughtered by their forces almost to our last man. Only I and one other survived.

When I earned my own title and house I decided on the pony frolicking in a field. Nobody ever feared me or my legion again, and all have paid gravely for that mistake. Me and those under my banner always take the least arrow fire, and always face the most brazen charges. When men fear you they tread warily, when they laugh at you they are reckless.

Today you may have lost because the odds far outweighed you, but in the future; men who think themselves to be honorable will put a hoof behind their back while you sheath your sword through their front."


	19. Enirb'Oreh

_**Helena the Witch in...**_

**Chapter 19: Enirb'Oreh**

Helena had not lived a long of a life. It had been less than a week since she had turned nineteen, and yet she could not shake the unfortunate feeling of dread that her short life was nearing its end.

The world around her had become completely torn apart by stray magic to the point where it was unrecognizable; at which point, it was then torn asunder again and again until one would believe that the creatures of the deep had clawed their way out of the depths in a fury reserved for the gods.

The people she had risen to defend were all likely dead. Her sisters in arms had been lost in the desolation of the battle scarred terrain around the young witch. Her body and mind were drained. Helena would have sworn that his body was slowly being torn apart; atom by atom. However, this only served to fuel the young witch with more anger; and more power.

"Do not underestimate your powers, Helena," her master had warned, "Magic is an unpredictable force. As easily as you can summon it to do your bidding, it can control you."

Helena heard her master's teachings as she faced the monster she had summoned into the world.

"Enirb'Oreh, why do you not bow before me? As your summoner and your master, I command you to stop!" she commanded with all the authority she could muster.

The fallen angel, enraged by her command, turned to face the witch.

"You fool!" he replied with a deep rumbling voice, "I am Enirb'Oreh! I am of the earth, and the fire, and the water and the wind! I am both, the creator and the destroyer! What authority do you wield over me?"

"I am a witch," she shouted, the innate magic within her amplifying her voice, "I brought you into my world! I brought the four elements together and shed blood to bring you into existence! I created you, and if I must, I can unmake you!"

Very well witch," Enirb'Oreh spat, as if the words left a foul taste in his mouth. "Do your worst."

Helena, tapping into her little remaining strength, conjured a ball of pure energy in her hands. The spell required no incantation nor catalyst, for the energy did not need to take on a form. This was magic in its purest form; drawn from her own life source.

"Very well, you've left me no choice." She sighed as she poured whatever energy she had to spare into her spell. "It did not need to end this way, we could've lived alongside one another. You could've followed me home."

"I was born from the world itself," he roared, his voice heavy with rage. "This is my home, and I do not intend to rest until it is reclaimed!"

"So be it," she snarled, raising the glowing ball of flashing teal energy above her head. She put everything she had left into the energy ball and flung it with as much force as she could muster; aiming the projectile directly at the fallen angel's chest.

It struck dead on. A dark cloud of smoke and dust billowed forth from the impact, but Enirb'Oreh did not fall. Instead, a rumbling laugh echoed across the flame-scorched battleground.

The fallen angel lunged forward, summoning a blade into his hand. Helena barely dodged the attack, and was knocked off of her feet. She groaned in pain from the impact.

"Pathetic!" he roared, approaching dazed witch. "To think, a weakling like you managed to bring force a being as magnificent as I?" He laughed harshly as he raised the sword high above his head.

With a faint flick of the hand, she had summoned a force field to enclose her. The sword cut through air towards her, but miraculously, Helena had just enough energy to parry the blow. The blade shattered in the fallen angel's hands and Enirb'Oreh stumbled backwards in disbelief. He had not expected any more resistance from the witch.

You cannot remain in my world, I won't allow it!" She shouted, finding the energy in her to conjure a second ball of energy in her hands. "I created you, and I responsible to restore balance by killing you!"

She flung the ball, this time striking him in the head. Immediately, the fallen angel began to split apart into his component elements. His feet hardened into clay, preventing him from running away. Water leaked from the cracks the appeared in his skin and then a great flame burst forth from his chest, engulfing him. Finally, his ashes were scattered by a gust of wind.

Helena, exhausted from exerting so much magic at once, collapsed onto the ground.

"Well, there's that settled." She muttered under her breath. "No where's the other one?"


	20. Perpetual Science Enrichment Facility

Forced Autothysis Experiment #0202 – Boomstick

Perpetual Science Enrichment Facility

Upper Michigan, USA

12/26/3036

Begin Audio Log

**Dr. Collier: **Is the subject finally asleep?

**Dr. Freud: **Yes. It took several tranquilizers before settling down; but I believe it should be incapacitated for the next few hours.

**Dr. Collier: **Excellent. Now please enlighten me; what exactly is it that I'm looking at?

**Dr. Freud: **Before we begin, are you familiar with the nature of the experiments we conduct in this facility.

**Dr. Collier: **Of course, sir. I myself was one of the leading backers behind your bone-regeneration experiments. If I recall, your facility is renowned for its scientific breakthroughs in the field of genetic engineering.

**Dr. Freud: **Precisely! I believe you have also been entrusted with the secrets of Project 'M'?

**Dr. Collier: **Correct. And I must add I am quite fascinated with the premise.

**Dr. Freud: **Glad to hear. Although the concept of using the manipulation of genetics to further advance the progress of biological weapons is far from new; it has never been perfected to such an extent. In the past, biological weapons have been designed to spread disease among enemy troops though the introduction of microorganisms such as viruses and bacteria. Project 'M' will revolutionize all that. Project 'M' will introduce an entire new line of super-soldiers which will replace the need for human soldiers. No longer shall wars be fought at the expense of millions upon millions of human lives.

**Dr. Collier: **Doctor, I have been informed that the creatures your team had created as of yet are far from practical for military purposes, never mind replacing human soldiers. The products of project 'Pyromaniac'; incapable of surviving contact with water. The products of project 'Lazarus'; incapable of surviving direct sunlight. The list goes on and on. Everything you have created so far simply presents too many flaws.

**Dr. Freud:** True… Until now…

**Dr. Collier: **What do you mean Doctor?

**Dr. Freud: **Well, it's the reason we needed you here so urgently. 'Boomstick' here is something special. It possesses critical camouflage, is capable of avoiding detection, manipulates electricity and to top it all off, detonates on death; effectively removing any trace of evidence it leaves behind of its existence. What we've created is virtually perfect!

**Dr. Collier: **Fascinating. How exactly have you managed to achieve this?

**Dr. Freud: **Well it was a delicate balance between monitoring the creature's molecular levels and careful regulation while introducing the fungus; nothing to compli-

**Dr. Collier: **Hold on a second. Fungus; as in mushrooms?

**Dr. Freud: **Perhaps it would be simpler if I started from the beginning…

**Dr. Collier: **It would be appreciated.

**Dr. Freud: **Well, 'Boomstick' here is the product of a highly evolved organism that, prior to heavy mutation, was once something akin to the fungi genus Cordyceps. When a Cordyceps fungus attacks a host, the mycelium invades and eventually replaces the host tissue. It took us several years to coax the fungus into a symbiotic relationship with Experiment #0133, which used autothysis as a means of self-defense. The result; Experiment #0202

**Dr. Collier: **Autothysis?

**Dr. Freud:** It's the process where an organism destroys itself via an internal rupturing or explosion of an organ which ruptures the skin. It also happens to be the primary defense mechanism of 'Boomstick' over here. I thought this would be something you'd be familiar with, Doctor. Anyways, back to the fungus. Now rather than employing a poison, 'Boomstick' employs a method similar to the Australian bombardier beetle which produces hydroquinone and hydrogen peroxide in separate glands located next to each other, and upon discharging creates a sort of explosion of corrosive material to deter attackers. This, as you know, is a binary explosion; however the bombardier beetle doesn't actually create a fireball of destruction like our creation does. So in order to add a little kick to 'Boomstick's' detonation, we added in a pinch of sulfur.

**Dr. Collier: **This is astonishing! This, 'Boomstick', has the potential to change everything!

**Dr. Freud: **I'm glad you share my enthusiasm, Doctor; because this is only the beginning! Soon enough we'll have-

**Dr. Collier: **Doctor…

**Dr. Freud: **Yes?

**Dr. Collier: **It's gone…

**Dr. Freud: **What?! Shut down the facility! We cannot let this thing esca-

End Audio Log


	21. Shapeshifter

_**Muto the Slime in...**_

**Chapter #21: Shapeshifter**

The swamp was devilishly humid with a miasma of overly-saturated and rotting flora hanging thickly in the air. Disembodied snarls and hisses of the swamp's hidden wildlife mingled with the slow, gentle splash of the boats' oars. Every now and then a floating log would be pulled beneath the murky surface by some unknown creature. Despite the unfavorable conditions; the two heroes pressed on.

"Let me guess, you have no idea what you're looking for."

"I don't know; you've heard the legends, Oswald. Just keep an eye out for some sort of creature."

"This is Muto we're looking for. This isn't just 'some creature' you fool; we're dealing with a being as old as time itself!"

"We've been searching for hours! Are you certain this is even the right place?"

"Don't doubt me, Linnaeus. The legends foretold that the comet would strike this very spot on the eve of a great war.

After following the map south for a further thirty minutes, the duo came across an island in the middle of the swamp, which they had decided was the place they had been seeking. The two of them got out and began to set up camp; clearing out a large swath of ground to set up a heavy, canvas tent.

Then, it happened.

For dark eons the comet had circled aimlessly. Held in thrall by a distant sun, bound by gravity's inexorable pull, the massive ball of sludge had careened through the empty void between worlds, made strange by its dark journey. Finally, its journey was coming to an end. The falling star punched down through the sky, lighting a glowing trail across the night, a sign which the duo took as an omen.

"Wow!" Linnaeus murmured in awe.

"It's beautiful!" Oswald stammered in agreement.

"Uh… I think it's coming straight for us!"

"Well gr-"

The ball of hardened sludge melted in a flash of boiling heat as it neared the ground, knocking the duo off of their feet.

Linnaeus awoke the next day to the sound of frantic screaming. As he sat up with a start, he noticed that his companion had a bow in hand, aiming it in the direction of the murky water. He followed his gaze.

A figure was rising from the marsh. It moved erratically, swaying from side to side, constantly morphing into anything the creature located within the vicinity. One second, a tree. The next, a rock. The being was a canvas of constant change.

Then, without any notice, it attacked; sending a column of pale green sludge hurtling towards Oswald. The blow sent him flying backwards, sending him crashing into their campsite.

Linnaeus was holding his head, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding around him. Gathering his strength, he flung himself at the creature, striking it on the chest. It let out a screeching cry of pain before retaliating with another column of slime.

When Linnaeus recovered his senses once more, he rose to face his opponent, yet all he found was… himself. A green copy of himself, a perfect replica, stared back intently. Ripples of movement surged across the creature's skin and the difference in color was the only difference. Even the chip in Linnaeus' tooth was present.

He did not have time to react, as with his own speed and strength, the creature smashed him in the head with a discarded log, dropping him to the ground. Linnaeus desperately tried to pull back in time to prevent himself from being crippled, but he was struck once and he fell out of his sense.

Oswald, having finally recovered from the impact, watched the scene. He remained powerless to intervene his friend's slaughter. Sighing audibly, he disappeared into the night, hoping the monster would not follow.


End file.
